"The Enchanted Cottage" -- Part 20
Shout.
Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., November 2006
"You're coming to Pittsburgh!" Michael shouted with excitement. "When?"
"Pipe down, Mikey," said Brian, holding the cellphone away from his ear. "They didn't hear you across the lake in Canada."
"Where the heck are you? Are you outside?" asked Michael.
"I'm in my favorite phone-call-making spot -- a large rock overlooking Lake Erie," Brian replied. "But I won't be able to sit here much longer. Soon I'll have to trudge all the way up to the big house to make a call."
"How come they don't have a phone line in that place?"
"It's supposed to be shut off from the world. That's the purpose of the place -- for the heir and his bride to make another heir in peace and quiet. And I guess that can be a good thing -- unless you need to make a fucking phone call! Mrs. Minnett put an internet line into the place just for me. It didn't seem to occur to her that a phone line would be a good thing, too."
"I don't know how you've managed to stay there so long, Brian. I thought you'd be back in the loft the next week!" said Michael.
"I almost was," Brian confessed. "But then I decided to tough it out."
"But now you're coming back!" Michael almost shouted again. "I can't believe it! When are you coming? Ma is going to want you to come over for dinner. And we have to go to Woody's. And..."
"Hold your horses, Mikey!" said Brian. "Let's take things one at a time. I'm coming down there for a specific reason."
"Does Vance have some presentation he wants you to do?"
"Hardly," Brian sniffed. "He still thinks I should be heard, but not seen, although he may change his mind sooner than he imagines."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't explain now," said Brian. "It's too... I just can't. You'll have to wait and see. And I do mean see, But you won't fucking believe it!"
"Believe what?"
"You'll see. But the reason I'm coming down there is that some of Justin's pieces are going to be in the art show at the GLC."
"The GLC? The Gay and Lesbian Center?"
"Yes. I know they're a bunch of dickless wonders at the Center, but Justin has to start somewhere and that place is as good as any. The opening is Friday, December 1, so mark it on your calendar. They're having a big party for all the artists and press and friends, so I want you and Deb and Carl there. Justin and I will come down a day or two before so he can make sure they have his stuff displayed correctly. You know how important it is to get things exactly right."
"Justin?" Michael sounded puzzled. "You mean that kid who works at the estate? The one who cleans the cottage?"
"He doesn't work at the estate," said Brian. "He's another guest here, like I am, only he's been here longer. He was bashed a couple of years ago. Remember that kid who was attacked at his prom? And then the trial of the creeps who did it?"
"Oh, yeah," said Michael. "I didn't know that was the same kid. And he's an artist?"
"He was," said Brian. "And now he is again. A very talented artist. You should see some of the work he's done. It's fucking genius! He combines photos with computer graphics and then he draws and paints on top of the prints. It's amazing stuff. You'd never know that only a few months ago he could barely hold a pencil or make a straight line."
"That's... nice," Michael said suspiciously. "And he shows you his artwork?"
"He does more than show me!" Brian laughed. "I'm his favorite model!"
Michael was dumbstruck. "You're... what?"
"His model, Mikey! Didn't you hear me the first time?"
"Yeah, I heard you, but I didn't believe it. You're his... model?"
"What's so strange about that?" Brian huffed. "I've been working out again. I might not be in the shape I was in a couple of years ago, but I'm not bad. Not bad at all. And my dick is better than ever, if I do say so myself!"
Michael gulped. "You let this kid take pictures of your dick?"
"Why not?" said Brian. "I let him do more than just take pictures of it."
"Brian! Are you fucking this kid?" Michael was shouting again.
"Jesus! Now you sound like Lindsay!" Brian shivered as the wind whipped up on the bluff. "Yes, I'm fucking him! His name is Justin, by the way, so you might as well start using it. And..." Brian paused. "He's also fucking me."
"What?!" Michael practically jumped through the phone. "Brian! What the hell is going on?"
"I knew you'd freak out," Brian sighed melodramatically. "That's why I didn't tell you before. We're... I don't know. Lovers? Partners? I fucking detest those bullshit labels."
"Lovers?" Michael was incredulous. "I don't know what to say."
"Then how about saying that you're happy for me?" Brian's tone turned serious.
"But who is this... this kid? I mean, this... Justin?" Michael's voice was shaking.
"He's a guy," said Brian. "A very talented, very understanding, and very patient guy. He'd have to be to put up with me. But... I've changed, Michael. I told you that I can't explain it, but it's true."
"But I don't want you to change!" Michael insisted. "Brian, you were perfect the way you were! Brian fucking Kinney!"
"I haven't been Brian fucking Kinney for a long time, Michael. And you know why."
"That's not true! You don't need to change, Brian!"
"Then why did I come here? Why did you and Lindsay practically hogtie me to get me here? So that I could take stock of my life. So I could change -- or die. And that's what I've done."
"Brian..." Michael was almost in tears.
"It's for the best, Mikey. I couldn't go on the way I was. Justin's helped me to see that. And then... when it happened, I didn't believe it. I still don't believe it. Or I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."
"What happened?" said Michael, mystified. "What did you see?"
"The miracle," said Brian. "I can't tell you about it. You'll have to see it for yourself. And you will -- when we come to Pittsburgh, right after Thanksgiving. That's when everyone will see what's happened."
***
Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., November 2006
"You're coming to Pittsburgh!" Michael shouted with excitement. "When?"
"Pipe down, Mikey," said Brian, holding the cellphone away from his ear. "They didn't hear you across the lake in Canada."
"Where the heck are you? Are you outside?" asked Michael.
"I'm in my favorite phone-call-making spot -- a large rock overlooking Lake Erie," Brian replied. "But I won't be able to sit here much longer. Soon I'll have to trudge all the way up to the big house to make a call."
"How come they don't have a phone line in that place?"
"It's supposed to be shut off from the world. That's the purpose of the place -- for the heir and his bride to make another heir in peace and quiet. And I guess that can be a good thing -- unless you need to make a fucking phone call! Mrs. Minnett put an internet line into the place just for me. It didn't seem to occur to her that a phone line would be a good thing, too."
"I don't know how you've managed to stay there so long, Brian. I thought you'd be back in the loft the next week!" said Michael.
"I almost was," Brian confessed. "But then I decided to tough it out."
"But now you're coming back!" Michael almost shouted again. "I can't believe it! When are you coming? Ma is going to want you to come over for dinner. And we have to go to Woody's. And..."
"Hold your horses, Mikey!" said Brian. "Let's take things one at a time. I'm coming down there for a specific reason."
"Does Vance have some presentation he wants you to do?"
"Hardly," Brian sniffed. "He still thinks I should be heard, but not seen, although he may change his mind sooner than he imagines."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't explain now," said Brian. "It's too... I just can't. You'll have to wait and see. And I do mean see, But you won't fucking believe it!"
"Believe what?"
"You'll see. But the reason I'm coming down there is that some of Justin's pieces are going to be in the art show at the GLC."
"The GLC? The Gay and Lesbian Center?"
"Yes. I know they're a bunch of dickless wonders at the Center, but Justin has to start somewhere and that place is as good as any. The opening is Friday, December 1, so mark it on your calendar. They're having a big party for all the artists and press and friends, so I want you and Deb and Carl there. Justin and I will come down a day or two before so he can make sure they have his stuff displayed correctly. You know how important it is to get things exactly right."
"Justin?" Michael sounded puzzled. "You mean that kid who works at the estate? The one who cleans the cottage?"
"He doesn't work at the estate," said Brian. "He's another guest here, like I am, only he's been here longer. He was bashed a couple of years ago. Remember that kid who was attacked at his prom? And then the trial of the creeps who did it?"
"Oh, yeah," said Michael. "I didn't know that was the same kid. And he's an artist?"
"He was," said Brian. "And now he is again. A very talented artist. You should see some of the work he's done. It's fucking genius! He combines photos with computer graphics and then he draws and paints on top of the prints. It's amazing stuff. You'd never know that only a few months ago he could barely hold a pencil or make a straight line."
"That's... nice," Michael said suspiciously. "And he shows you his artwork?"
"He does more than show me!" Brian laughed. "I'm his favorite model!"
Michael was dumbstruck. "You're... what?"
"His model, Mikey! Didn't you hear me the first time?"
"Yeah, I heard you, but I didn't believe it. You're his... model?"
"What's so strange about that?" Brian huffed. "I've been working out again. I might not be in the shape I was in a couple of years ago, but I'm not bad. Not bad at all. And my dick is better than ever, if I do say so myself!"
Michael gulped. "You let this kid take pictures of your dick?"
"Why not?" said Brian. "I let him do more than just take pictures of it."
"Brian! Are you fucking this kid?" Michael was shouting again.
"Jesus! Now you sound like Lindsay!" Brian shivered as the wind whipped up on the bluff. "Yes, I'm fucking him! His name is Justin, by the way, so you might as well start using it. And..." Brian paused. "He's also fucking me."
"What?!" Michael practically jumped through the phone. "Brian! What the hell is going on?"
"I knew you'd freak out," Brian sighed melodramatically. "That's why I didn't tell you before. We're... I don't know. Lovers? Partners? I fucking detest those bullshit labels."
"Lovers?" Michael was incredulous. "I don't know what to say."
"Then how about saying that you're happy for me?" Brian's tone turned serious.
"But who is this... this kid? I mean, this... Justin?" Michael's voice was shaking.
"He's a guy," said Brian. "A very talented, very understanding, and very patient guy. He'd have to be to put up with me. But... I've changed, Michael. I told you that I can't explain it, but it's true."
"But I don't want you to change!" Michael insisted. "Brian, you were perfect the way you were! Brian fucking Kinney!"
"I haven't been Brian fucking Kinney for a long time, Michael. And you know why."
"That's not true! You don't need to change, Brian!"
"Then why did I come here? Why did you and Lindsay practically hogtie me to get me here? So that I could take stock of my life. So I could change -- or die. And that's what I've done."
"Brian..." Michael was almost in tears.
"It's for the best, Mikey. I couldn't go on the way I was. Justin's helped me to see that. And then... when it happened, I didn't believe it. I still don't believe it. Or I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."
"What happened?" said Michael, mystified. "What did you see?"
"The miracle," said Brian. "I can't tell you about it. You'll have to see it for yourself. And you will -- when we come to Pittsburgh, right after Thanksgiving. That's when everyone will see what's happened."
***